


snowdrift

by everythingFangirl



Series: so call me when the world looks bleak (dream smp oneshots) [5]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Dave | Technoblade and Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit are Siblings, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Snow, Snowball Fight, because I have no idea what the timeline of this is, let's just say that the seasons work differently in minecraft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:14:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27288499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everythingFangirl/pseuds/everythingFangirl
Summary: It's snowing, and the cold wind bites at Wilbur's numbing fingertips.It's snowing, and Fundy clutches at his coat, still shivering despite his fur.It's snowing, and the stone walls of Niki's bakery are freezing to the touch.It's snowing, and Tommy runs, face scrunched up and one arm thrown out in front of him.It's snowing, and Tubbo's suit jacket does little to keep out the cold.~Four times it snowed in the Dream SMP (and two times it snowed elsewhere).
Relationships: Dave | Technoblade & Wilbur Soot, Dave | Technoblade & Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit, Eret & Niki | Nihachu, Jschlatt & Toby Smith | Tubbo, Jschlatt & Ty | IAmTy (Video Blogging RPF), No Romantic Relationship(s), Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Series: so call me when the world looks bleak (dream smp oneshots) [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1966438
Comments: 22
Kudos: 216
Collections: Dream SMP Connected Storylines





	snowdrift

**Author's Note:**

> Title is taken from the song [snowdrift](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=delm4UqrwQ0) by Snail's House, which was also what inspired me to write this piece.

_It’s snowing._

_The cold wind bites at Wilbur’s numbing fingertips and every sharp snowflake feels like a blade slicing at his face. He shivers under his meagre shelter that’s little more than one wall and a slight overhang; the rest drops into the endless, endless sky that’s in front of him and below him and all around, and he clings on for dear life when it feels like the next strong gust of wind will be the one to send him plummeting over the edge._

_He feels a slight tug on his consciousness as yet another item drops into his inventory. Futilely, he prays to the Sky Gods for more blocks, or some wool, or even some flint and steel just to get rid of this dreadful, dreadful cold -_

_A bucket of lava. Seems like the gods think they have a sense of humor._

_He hurls it into the nothingness, watches it plummet endlessly until it disappears from sight. Later, he’ll regret not keeping it when a matching water bucket appears, but for now he’s too tired and too angry and too fucking cold to care._

_The wind howls in his ears and rips at his too-thin clothes, and he blinks against the deluge of what’s looking more and more like a blizzard. The wind howls in his ears and howls in his mind, and he howls right back, howls his frustrations and his anger and his bone-chilling loneliness right back at the gods who he knows aren’t even listening. He screams with the wind, and it does nothing to alleviate the cold, and the catharsis of it is only satisfying in a bitter way._

_New Milo is still in his inventory. Wilbur doesn’t have enough blocks to make a proper enclosure, and even if he could, he’s not sure how long he could survive in this cold. But when the wind finally subsides, when the snow stops clawing at his face and swirls down softly, lazily, in a way he could almost call beautiful, he makes a promise. He won’t be cold like this again. He won’t let New Milo be cold like this again. He won’t let anyone be cold like this again._

_It may be cold, but Wilbur swears it’ll be the last time._

~

It’s snowing.

Fundy clutches at his coat as he forces his way through the thick layer of it blanketing the ground. He’s faring better than most of the other L’Manbergians, thanks to his fur, but even he’s shivering against the unexpected cold. A snowflake lands on the tip of his nose, only one of the millions fluttering down in an elegant dance today. Even if he’s cold, he can’t deny the sight of it, covering the entirety of the Dream SMP’s lands, is something to behold.

When the familiar, half-built blackstone walls finally come into sight, he breathes a sigh of relief, misting the air in front of him. His pace quickens in his hurry to get inside, get warm, maybe grab something to eat from the van. As he passes the gates, he smiles, almost involuntarily, at the thought -

Something smacks into the side of his face.

As he cries out in protest, spitting snow out of his mouth and wiping it out of his eyes, Tommy’s raucous laughter sounds, Tubbo joining in a second later. He turns to see them kneeling behind a snowdrift, doubled over in laughter, a pile of ready-made snowballs already laid out next to them in preparation.

“Come on,” Fundy whines, but there’s already a smile building on his face. While the boys are still distracted from laughing at his misfortune, he dives to one side, grabbing a handful of snow and forming it into a rough ball. Tubbo yelps in alarm a split second before Fundy throws it; the boys dive behind their barricade again, but he still manages to knock Tommy’s uniform hat clean off.

All three of them dissolve into laughter again, but Fundy realizes all too late that the others are preparing a counterattack. When the first snowball hits his shoulder, he staggers to one side, calling out in alarm, but more and more of them fly at him and he throws up an arm to protect his face -

A snowball arcs out of nowhere, hitting Tommy square in the chest and knocking him on his ass.

There’s a moment of stunned silence, Tubbo’s snowball dropping to the ground. Fundy hesitantly looks up, following the trajectory of the projectile, right to the top of the walls.

Eret’s shades are covered in a layer of snow, but he sends Fundy a mock salute, grinning. Fundy laughs again, waving back at him, while the boys dissolve into laughter again. Tommy suddenly yells out a war cry, staggering back to his feet and grabbing snow with both hands before running towards the wall and attempting to hurl them at Eret. Tubbo shoots Fundy a grin before following right on his heels.

Leaving the boys to their shenanigans (and hearing Eret’s cries of alarm), Fundy turns back towards the van and begins to walk forward. There’s a figure in the doorway; Fundy’s eyes meet Wilbur’s, something like pride written on his face, and they both smile.

It may be cold, but Fundy’s heart is warmer than it has been in a long time.

~

It’s snowing.

The stone walls of Niki’s bakery are freezing to the touch, the cold seeping into the air around her. This is what she gets for living in a cave and not giving it a proper door, she mulls to herself as she throws more wood on her fire. Even in the back rooms, it’s far too cold for comfort. The view of the outside world is almost scarily blank white, the ocean and the sky blanketed by clouds and the swirling snow.

She takes another futile look at one of her furnaces, wishing her rabbit stew would cook faster, relishing in the thought of its warmth. It might be nice to share her dinner with someone else at a time like this, but everyone, citizens of both L’Manberg and the Dream SMP, are all huddled up in their own homes, and Niki would be an idiot to try to make the trek to Fundy’s cave or Tommy’s cottage in this kind of cold. So she shivers by herself, grabbing another blanket from her inventory to bundle around her.

In a way, she’s grateful. It feels like this is the calmest L’Manberg’s ever been while she’s lived here. There’s always been some conflict going on, or Tommy and Tubbo causing chaos, or Wilbur implementing another one of his schemes (she’s been hearing something about an election, recently, and for a moment a foreboding feeling swallows her), but now, it’s quiet. It’s peaceful.

Maybe a little too quiet, but… oh well. It’ll do.

Even if she is a little lonely.

...That’s precisely when she hears footsteps in her entryway.

“Niki?” An unmistakably deep voice calls out. Niki hurriedly stands up, clutching her blankets around her as she rushes to meet her guest. When she catches sight of them at the door, she smiles.

“Eret? What are you doing here?”

It’s almost comical how snow-covered they are, from their crown to their shades to their red king’s coat. Still, they smile right back at her even as their teeth chatter. “Hey! I thought it would be nice to pop in.” They hold aloft a basket she can see is piled high with food, covered by fabric to keep out the snow. “I brought stuff!”

Niki laughs. “Eret, I live in a bakery.”

He shrugs, also chuckling in response. “Still.”

“Well, come in then, don’t just stand there!” Niki beckons them forward, and Eret steps in gleefully, brushing snow from his coat.

They settle in around her table, Niki’s stew accompanied by bread and potatoes courtesy of Eret and a stash of cake and fruits prepared for dessert. Conversation between them comes easily, as it always does; despite their preconditioned animosity due to their respective factions, Niki still finds it all too easy to like Eret’s company.

“So, why did you choose to come here, really?” Niki asks at one point.

Eret hesitates for a moment, swallowing down their food before responding. “It… gets kind of cold in the castle. It’s so big, and if it’s just me in there… it’s a little too much.” He chuckles. “Plus, your cakes are always very good.”

Niki feels a pang of sympathy, not for the first time. She couldn’t even imagine living in a place that large by herself, and especially in the cold like this…

“Well, you’re always welcome to come here if you want to,” She offers with a smile. Eret returns it without hesitation.

It may be cold, but here, spending time with a friend, Niki finds it all too easy to forget.

~

It’s snowing.

Tommy runs through the forest, face scrunched up and one arm thrown out in front of him, the entrance to Pogtopia barely visible through the blizzard. He digs through the dirt wall as fast as he can, then seals it up behind him; it blocks out the howling of the wind and the snow pelting at his face, but does little against the cold. As he descends the steps into the ravine, it only seems to deepen, leaving him shivering and chilled to the bone.

It’s quiet down here. Tommy staggers over to the fire pit they’ve built right at the center, scouring his inventory for whatever wood he can find before sparking it with a flint and steel. It takes a while for the fire to light properly; in the meantime he removes his coat and gloves, now soaked through, and shakes the snow out of his hair. He holds his trembling hands out towards the flames, wincing at the pain the transition from cold to heat causes, but soon that turns to warmth and a tangible feeling of relief.

Once Tommy feels he’s sufficiently warmed up, he begins to notice just how empty the ravine feels. There’s no sign of his brothers, even if he knows they’re likely around somewhere, and the torches set into the walls do little to fight back against the darkness. For a moment, he thinks about Tubbo, and Fundy and Eret and that day in L’Manberg a lifetime ago -

_No, that’s not going to help it. Stop it, Tommy, you idiot._

Driven by restlessnes and a small amount of worry, he rises to his feet and makes his way towards Techno’s potato farm. He can hear movement from inside; when he enters, Techno’s bent over, planting a potato, cloak trailing in the dirt.

Tommy clears his throat. “Hey, Techno.”

The man doesn’t even acknowledge him.

“Do you know where Wilbur is?”

Techno shrugs, still not turning from his work. “Don’t know. Haven’t seen him in a bit.”

“Okay.” Tommy shifts awkwardly in the doorway; when Techno doesn’t say anything else, he turns to leave. “Good luck with your farming.”

He wanders the caves, footsteps echoing against the stone walls; every once in a while, he calls out Wilbur’s name, only to hear nothing but his own voice answer back. It’s getting colder again, away from the fire, and he finds himself regretting leaving his jacket behind.

He’s almost about to give up and go back to the fire by himself when he glimpses a figure in one of the smaller caves. “Wilbur?” He rushes through the entryway.

Wilbur’s there, unmoving, sitting on a bed, curled up on himself and staring blankly in front of him.

Something’s not right.

Hesitantly, Tommy takes another step forward. “You alright?”

Wilbur doesn’t move, doesn’t even turn to look at him.

His lips are moving, muttering something to himself almost inaudibly.

“I’m so cold. I’m so cold.”

A chill runs through Tommy’s spine, one that has nothing to do with the freezing temperature.

Something’s not right. But something has to be done.

He takes another step foward, putting a hand on Wilbur’s shoulder. “Come on, big man, let’s get you somewhere warm.” Wilbur jolts at the touch and turns to face him, not protesting when Tommy hauls him out of the bed and leads him to the fire.

He sits down on the rock Tommy offers him, looking into the flames. For some time, it’s quiet, Tommy simply sitting beside his brother in worry, but as Wilbur warms up, some life seems to return to him as well. A few minutes later, he takes off his gloves and holds his hands out towards the fire.

Tommy doesn’t even notice Techno’s approach; he shrugs off his heavy cloak and lays it on Wilbur’s shoulders, then sits down on his other side and passes Tommy a baked potato. When he holds one out to Wilbur, he accepts it too, and begins to eat when Tommy does. Tommy's really grown tired of the taste of baked potato after so long, but he doesn’t complain once the food begins to warm him up from the inside.

They finish eating in silence, but it’s not an unpleasant one. Wilbur flexes his hands, then pulls Techno’s cloak tighter around him.

“How are you feeling, Big Dubs?” Tommy asks, hesitantly.

Wilbur glances towards him, half a smile on his face. “Better.” He turns back towards the fire.

Then…

“I’m sorry.”

“None of this was your fault, Wilbur,” Techno says, uncharacteristically gently.

He doesn’t respond.

The silence carries on as the outside world drags itself towards the night. The cold doesn’t go away, but…

Tommy finds himself leaning into Wilbur’s side. Seeing his brother like this hurts more than he can admit. No matter how much Tommy’s lost, Wilbur’s suffered infinitely worse. And if all he can do to comfort him right now is be there for him, then, well…

He’ll do the best he can.

Wilbur raises his arms and wraps Techno’s cloak around the three of them. Techno stiffens for a moment, but then leans in on the other side as well.

It may be cold, but with the fire in front of them, with his brothers beside him, Tommy can still hope that they can bring the warmth back again.

~

It’s snowing.

The suit jacket doesn’t do much to keep out the cold as Tubbo walks across the snow. It’s getting dark, but the light of the few torches scattered along the road glitters off the snow in a mesmerizing way. If it wasn’t so cold, and if he wasn’t afraid of getting wet, maybe he'd just lay down right there and watch the snowflakes drift from the sky for a few hours.

But the shivers wracking his body remind Tubbo that’s not an option, so he continues to walk towards the lights he can see shining through the windows of the White House. It’s just about the last place he'd want to be right now, but it’s also the closest place he knows he could probably get away from this dreadful cold now that Tommy is gone and Wilbur is gone and L’Manberg is -

Tubbo pushes open the heavy doors, breathing in the warm air and the scent of -

Hot chocolate?

His eyes search the main room, eventually landing on -

Well, whatever he was expecting to find in here, it’s not this.

There’s a fireplace, armchairs and sofas scattered around it. In one of them is Schlatt, suit replaced by a sky-blue sweater, mug clutched in his hand. He’s speaking to Quackity, who’s also traded in his suit for a hoodie, and is currently laughing uproariously at some joke the President’s made. Fundy’s also there, looking a little awkward on the couch, but when he spots Tubbo in the doorway, he smiles.

Tubbo hesitantly steps forward just as Schlatt and Quackity notice his presence as well. “Tubbo!” Schlatt exclaims cheerfully, beckoning him over. “Come join us, don’t just stand there! You must be cold.”

He shrugs non-commitally as he takes a seat next to Fundy. “It’s fine.” It’s really not, the snow on his clothes is already melting in the heat of the fire and the wetness isn’t particularly pleasant, but he's still fully aware that he's treading on eggshells around this man.

Schlatt must notice his hesitation, though, because he puts down his mug and takes something out of his inventory, tossing it to Tubbo. “Here, put this on. Can’t have my right hand man freezing his ass off, can I?”

It’s a sweatshirt with ‘SCHLATT 2020’ printed on it over a drawing of an eagle, and despite Tubbo’s distaste for the design, he can’t deny the allure of dry clothes. He excuses himself from the room for a moment to replace his soaked suit jacket and remove his tie, and when he returns, the look Schlatt gives him feels almost like pride.

As Tubbo settles in on the couch again, Fundy’s in the middle of some long-winded story, looking surprisingly relaxed even as Schlatt listens to him intently. A smiling Quackity passes Tubbo a mug of something warm, the scent of which marks it as the hot chocolate he'd smelled when he entered. When he takes a sip, it’s the best thing he’s tasted in a long, long while.

And, even as he hates to admit it… Here, on a comfortable couch, next to the warmth of a fire, listening to Fundy talking about something to do with Dream and an engagement and hearing Schlatt laugh more good-naturedly than he’s ever heard him laugh… something about it feels just a bit like home.

“Hey, Tubbo,” Schlatt starts once Fundy’s finished his tale, “Have you ever heard of the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory?” With a smile, he launches into a bizarre and long-winded explanation, while Fundy shares an amused glance with Quackity. Tubbo listens, and he finds himself smiling.

It may be cold, but every day, Tubbo’s finding it just a little easier to bear.

~

_It’s snowing._

_The insulation of this building is unbearably shitty; Schlatt’s promised time and time again that he’ll fix it once they start making more money, but the time for that has never seemed to come. Still, he’s relatively comfortable, sitting next to his fireplace and looking out of his window at the snowfall._

_He feels a swell of pride every time he looks over the ever-expanding territory of Schlatt & Co. They’ve been doing well, recently, and he’s proud of their growth. He’s proud of Connor and Ty, too, even if often he doesn’t admit it. He knows they’re on the verge of something great, so today, he lets himself sit back, relax, and watch the snow._

_That is, until there’s a knock on the door. Grumbling, he stands up, already preparing to yell at whoever thought it would be a good idea to disturb him today._

_Instead, he opens it to find Ty, shivering in nothing but his hoodie, arms wrapped around himself. “C-can I come in?”_

_“Shit, kid, are you okay?” He grabs him by the shoulders and drags him inside to the warmth, slamming the door behind him. “What were you doing out there?”_

_“I d-didn’t have anywhere else to go,” Ty responds, teeth chattering._

_Protective instinct already kicking in, Schlatt drags him over to a chair by the fireplace and forces him to sit down while he digs through his inventory for something to help him warm up. Eventually, he wraps a blanket around the kid’s shoulders, and pops over to the kitchen for a moment to make him a cup of hot chocolate._

_Ty accepts the mug with shaking hands, taking small sips of the scalding drink as Schlatt settles down next to him. Together, they sit in silence for a while, watching the fireplace and the slowly darkening sky as the kid slowly stops shivering._

_“You can stay here for tonight,” Schlatt finally says. “I don’t want you to go back out there by yourself, especially in the dark.”_

_“...Thanks.” Ty smiles at him, and Schlatt smiles back. He’s proud of the kid, really. He’s proud of all of them._

_It may be cold, but he’ll try his best to keep the people he cares about warm, however he can._


End file.
